


the night waiting for the day

by kiraakitsune



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bickering, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiraakitsune/pseuds/kiraakitsune
Summary: Bobby is a coffee shop owner and Crowley is one of his regulars. The two already know each other quite well, but neither of them has ever dared to make the first step. Featuring special appearances by Sam, Eileen and Charlie.This fic was written for the Secret Satan Event hosted by BroadwayLover101 and yourfinalblow.
Relationships: Crowley/Bobby Singer, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	the night waiting for the day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_wig_is_a_metaphor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_wig_is_a_metaphor/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to The_wig_is_a_metaphor. You deserve all the Crobby in the world.

_Strange, I've seen that face before  
I’ve seen him hanging around my door  
Like a hawk stealing for the prey  
Like the night waiting for the day_

The lyrics of the song echoed through his coffee shop, eerie, but not quite unfit in consideration of the folksy furniture and decoration. Bobby was kneeling on the ground, his back to the lobby. He was cleaning the tubes of the coffee machine while he hummed along to the song playing in the background. The shop was empty at the moment, so he figured it was best to get the midday cleaning session done, which included a full cleaning of all machines.

“Like the night… waiting for the day,” Bobby buzzed, his voice more of a grumble than anything else. He was just about to put the last tube back on and close the cover of the machine, when he heard someone speak.

“What does a gentleman have to do to get a good Irish Coffee here?” the person said, dropping their keys on the counter with a clash.

The overly British accent was a dead giveaway. It was Crowley Fregus, one of his regulars. And by his, he only meant _his_. He had asked Sam and Dean many times, but Mr. Fregus had never shown up during a single one of their shifts. Bobby had many customers, but few were as gorgeous and flamboyant as him.

“Gimme a second, just finishing up the machine. She’s a delicate lady,” Bobby grumbled in response.

“Take your time, pretty,” Crowley susurrated in a gentle manner.

He plugged in the final tube and closed the cover, before turning around to face his favorite customer. Bobby cleared his throat and took in the sight in front of him. He was wearing some fancy rich-people suit and his hair was gelled up. Admittedly, he was short, but more imposing than most six-foot men. Bobby was sure Crowley had killed someone before. Probably for some financial gain, judging by his cunning. If he ever got the opportunity, Bobby would make sure to ask him about that.

For now, they were standing in a coffee shop, all by themselves. Not a sight of any other customers. The only witness to their relentless eye-fucking was Poppy, Mr. Fregus’s border terrier puppy, who gave an occasional bark. The air between them hang thickly, while the song in the background continued to play.

_Strange, he shadows me back home  
His footsteps echo on the stones  
Rainy nights on Hausmann Boulevard  
Parisian music drifting from the bars_

The song continued to play in the background as Crowley spoke, “Good afternoon, Mr. Singer. Not gonna lie, I rather fancied the luscious view you gave me, but talking to you is always a pleasure.”

Their gazes met and for a moment the coffeeshop owner found himself at a loss for words, before he regained composure and teased, “You gon’ order something or just gonna stand here staring at my ass?”

Crowley lazily threw a 50$ bill on the counter, his voice barely more than a whisper when he spoke, “One Irish, keep the change.”

Bobby nodded, replying “Coming right up,” and got to work right away. Poppy began to whine and waddle around as she grew increasingly impatient with her master. The melody of the song in the background continued to play while Bobby began to prepare the coffee. Carelessly, he hummed along to the song as he poured the coffee, accidentally spilling some of it on his right hand.

“Goddammit,” he screeched, pulling his hand away and nearly dropping the cup. Luckily, he managed to catch it with his other hand before it could fall on the ground.

Crowley chuckled and asked, “Does my presence unsettle you, Mr. Singer?” His tone was sweet, but Bobby knew he was mocking him.

He wanted to give him a sassy answer, not willing to just swallow the other man’s provocative remarks. But Bobby was way too busy dealing with the pain in his right hand, which was now swollen and red.

Through the pain, he uttered a reply, “Nah, it’s just- it’s been a tough day. Had lots of customers today. Now let me just… make you a new one.”

This time around, Crowley stayed silent, probably taking in the sight of Bobby preparing the coffee, the hot steam coming off of the machine causing his cheeks to heat up and redden. He continued to prepare the coffee in silence, the only noises coming from Poppy and the speakers.

_Dance in bars and restaurants  
Home with anyone who wants  
Strange he's standing there alone  
His staring eyes chill me to the bone_

By the time the song came to an end, Bobby had added the Whiskey, the maple syrup, some coffee, and whipped cream.

“There you go,” he spoke softly as he handed over the cup, adding, “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Not as hot as you, my love,” Crowley replied coyly before he took the cup, turning away and taking Poppy to a seat by the window.

Bobby’s eyes widened in surprise. Mr. Fregus had flirted with him before, but never as blatantly as this.

Luckily, the other man had already turned around, so he couldn’t see how startled Bobby was. He took a deep breath, and cleaned up the mess he had made earlier when he burned his hand.

In the meantime, Crowley had found a seat for him and Poppy and started to type away on his laptop. Bobby knew that he was a salesman, but the other man had never told him what it was that he sold. From the looks of it, the shorter man surely had some skeletons in his closet.

Soon thereafter, other customers started to enter the shop and Bobby was busy making a dozen lattes and frappuccinos. Quickly, the shop owner realized that hazel eyes were following his every move, Crowley’s gaze drilling deep into his soul. When their eyes met, it felt as though time stopped and nothing else mattered, not even the twelve angry customers waiting for their diabetes in a cup.

Across the room, Crowley was tapping his fingers on the table, his eyebrows slightly raised, as if he was challenging him.  
“You should get back to your customers,” he mouthed silently.

A new song had started playing in the meantime, the lyrics echoing through the room. Bobby listened, blocking out the customers and gazing across the room.

_I know  
I'm not made in your likeness  
You're not made for my darkness  
I know  
I'm not made in your likeness  
I do try, but I'm hopeless_

“Hello, excuse me? Kevin Coffees across the street takes half as long as you do and they add free whipped cream to their Vanilla Frappuccinos. I’ve been waiting here for three minutes now.”

Crowley took a sip of his Irish, hiding a cheeky smile behind the cup.

Bobby groaned crabbily, “You’ve never had a bad day at work, huh? Well, what can I do for you, princess?”

Begrudgingly, he took the man’s order and prepared a large Vanilla Frappuccino with free whipped cream.

_Watch my fears unravel  
Can you see the truth of me?  
I don't want the light required  
For this endless walk on wire_

He finished off the rest of the orders. but those hazel eyes never once left his mind, while he completed them.

* * *

He was just about to finish of the last order, when he saw Charlie and Eileen enter the shop. Eileen was Sam’s boyfriend and a regular. Charlie was her best friend and the best person to talk to about Harry Potter.

“Hey Bobby, how’s Rumsfeld?” Charlie asked in a cheerful tone.

He smiled fondly, and replied, “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite girls. She’s doing good, ‘s just that she pissed on my porch last night. She’s getting old, y’know.”

“My uncle had the same problem actually. Turned out to be a bladder infection… I mean his dog had one,” she exclaimed, laughing awkwardly.

“What can I get for you two, the usual?” Bobby asked while he prepared the machine.

The women looked at each other, nodding and smiling. It was the little things in life that made them smile and giggle like little girls.

“One cinnamon dolce and one toffee nut latte coming right up,”

“Thank you, Bobby,” Eileen answered, her eyes sparkling in delight.

“I hope your boyfriend won’t be late. His shift’s starting in 20,” Bobby complained while he made the girls’ favorite drinks.

Eileen laughed heartily and said, “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute, Bobby. We’re actually going shopping, so I haven’t seen him in a few hours.”

Bobby nodded, adding, “Well, if he doesn’t, you have my permission to kick his ass.”

Charlie put her hands on Eileen’s shoulders, “You know if you tell her that she most definitely will?”

Bobby smiled, handing out the two lattes, and added, “Well, don’t go too hard on him. There you go. And don’t let them go cold.”

“I promise we won’t, see ya around Bobby,” Charlie proclaimed.

“And ask him out already,” Eileen exclaimed giddily, pointing to the man at the other side of the room. Crowley waved back, seemingly unfazed.

The two women took off, smiling and laughing.

* * *

Soon thereafter, all customers had left the shop, all but one. Crowley was still sitting in that very same spot, Poppy patiently sitting by his side.

Bobby was cleaning up the counter when he heard the sound of a chair being moved. Looking up, he saw Crowley standing right in front of him.

“Heya, you want another one?” Bobby inquired.

The other man stepped closer; a mischievous smile was plastered over his face.

He leaned over the counter and Bobby met him in the middle, their lips crashing. Bobby put his hands on Crowley’s cheeks, pulling him closer. He was pretty sure that the other man was standing on his toes since he was quite short. Fireworks were exploding inside of his chest and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Time was standing still around them and for a moment, he completely forgot that he was still at work and customers could come in any minute.

They broke apart for a moment and Bobby went around the counter, pushing Crowley against the wall. His lips found Crowley’s throat, purposefully leaving marks of their encounter. He put his hands on the other man’s shoulders, pulling him in for another heated kiss.

“You know there’s a hotel three blocks over right?” someone said from behind them. Bobby turned around, brushing over his clothes in a hurry.

Inadvertently, Sam did show up to his shift on time. The younger man cleared his throat, adding “Sorry for interrupting. I can leave if you…”

Crowley smiled and answered coyly, “Don’t worry, Moose. I have an appointment to get to. You, my love,” he said, facing Bobby, “call me when you’re off work, so we can finish what we started.”

The shorter man dropped a piece of paper on the counter and took off. He brushed past Sam, patting him on the arm before leaving. He took Poppy’s leash and the border terrier followed closely behind. Once he reached the door, he turned back to face Bobby.

“Will you be my Valentine, Mr. Singer?” he asked, winking at him cheekily.

Bobby was at a loss for words, staring at the other man in surprise.

“Just message me your answer, pretty,” he exclaimed before he made his exit.

Bobby was still in shock from the kiss. But he knew in that moment that moment that he was in deep.

In the background, another song continued to fade out.

_You won't find faith or hope down a telescope  
You won't find heart and soul in the stars  
You can break everything down to chemicals  
But you can't explain a love like ours_

_Ooh, it's the way we feel, yeah this is real_


End file.
